stars that blink, those that flash,
do they wink, do they dash,

on steeled wings, secreted cache,
where they bring, people stashed,

to far away places, water goes splash,
sunburnt faces, no credit, pay cash,

save each week, don't spend on trash,
don't dip or sneak, the trip will crash,

before you get on the plane,
let alone, run across the hot
and sandy of the beaches of Maui

Is this what the time of my life is supposed to be?
High school the best years of my life, right?

So all of
The laying in bed
Restlessly
Until 2 am
Thinking of all the poor decisions
From just that day

And then a little later
You look at your phone
Just to check the time
And it burns your eyes
Because they're so used to being closed
From crying by yourself

And then some time passes
And you realize it's almost 4
But you won't go to sleep
Because you don't think you deserve
To be put out of your misery
From your very own thoughts

It's 5 o'clock and the last tear
Has rolled down your cheek for the night
Because all of the bawling
Caused you to tire yourself to sleep


And then you wake up the next day
And greet your family with good morning's
And you go see your friends
And laugh your *** off
Because they think you're happy

Why shouldn't you be?
What's there to be sad about?
Don't others have it much worse?
Right??

So that's just normal.
These are the secrets of a teen.
It's really amazing.
You should try this sometime.
Because it's over before you know it.

And who wouldn't want this to end?


Cheers to the teenage years.

writing stuff, not physically,
curled up in the big settee.

opened the window behind me,
talked to pretoria, prettily.

not hard work, packing stuff,
to go, unless big and unwieldy.

midsummer yesterday, it was
not difficult to see it through, warm
and sunny.

dreaming of war tired me.

yellow star houses.

sbm.

It's the happy memories
That bring a meloncholly heart.
The ones with the smiles and the laughs
Of kissing in a snowstorm
Or dancing in the rain.

The sad ones hurt
But not the same way.
Because the joy that once was
Will never happen again
With you.

if by senior year of high school
you are tired of your life
make mountains out of mole hills
cut ties with your best friend
because your ex nothing
kissed her on new years
blame them both
don't speak until a year later
tell him you made him
he would be nothing without you
fall for your friends
because you know it will never work
be needy
go to prom by yourself
pretend to rock it
then cry in your grandmas minivan before you leave
burn bridges with your friend group
for no good reason
other than
by senior year you are tired with your life
choose your college entirely on a guy
make sure he is boring
mediocre
and smells of trouble and mental illness
spend all summer trying to make him less boring
convince yourself he is perfect
move twelve hours away
because you don't want to know anyone
hate your roommate
but don't ever give her a chance
get way too comfortable with the boring boy
feel superior
because you're smarter
and you've partied more
steal adderall from the party
because that makes you look cool
give him all of you
mind and body
by that I mean
english papers and shower ***
ignore the signs that he's lost interest
force yourself on him anyway
cry to your friends back home when you're drunk
cry because you are twelve hours away
drink because you are twelve hours away
smoke to stop crying
smoke to stop drinking
don't eat anything
always take the stairs
walk the long way to class
never stop moving
******* are not enough to force up your self-pity
three fingers makes it a little easier
don't look at yourself in the mirror
you are still not good enough for the boring boy
take the blame when he snitches on you
do not fight for yourself
sleep with him again anyway
tell yourself "there is no sin too great"
this is what you wanted
because by senior year you were tired of your life

What are these bands around your wrists
These frayed stories that barely cling?
And what are these enchantments held
That cradle your touch between each ring?
And what is this ancient writing here
That’s inked from shops of yester-year?
Is there a relic about you yet
That makes your brackish past run clear?

What is that place your eye seeks out
When your steady gaze is aether-bound?
And what steep truths have you traversed
To gather poise as you have found?
What shadows passing now have stayed
And fears upon tanned shoulder weighed?
Can mysteries be unraveled here
That in your piercing focus played?

Oh wandering mystery mountain man,
Oh sweet conundrum of my dreams,
Oh distant altruistic love,
Oh ponderer of whispering streams,
Wherefore do the stars yet speak
So I can hear their secret calls,
But ever in their praises keep
Your hidden name in cosmic halls?
Yes, to my ears they murmur deep
The stain-ed truths of earth and sky
But never leaks that hopeful peep;
Verisimilitude is shy.

Forever my enigma: you.
The heavens sagely made it so.
For I have solved the their secrets through,
But so much in you left to know.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I wasn’t supposed to fall so hard
I wasn’t supposed to call out for your arms in the night
And my lips weren’t supposed to search for yours
As if they would actually be there.
I wasn’t supposed to nuzzle into my pillow at night
pretending that your hands were nestled in my hair
I wasn’t supposed to make small talk
just so I could hypnotize myself with that something in your eyes
I wasn’t supposed to wake up cold in the gray morning
with the strong urge to be bruised and bitten
In fits of slow, languid passion.

Unreal how our bodies match and move together,
Uncanny how our minds meld and play in synch.
My youthful love for life,
Your chuckling maturity, still unsure what life is.

Now I play soft ballads full of aching, yearning,
I can wrap myself in a blanket on the floor
With a mug of tea, and think silently on you
And the shadows I wish I could conjure into existence…
They live inside, dancing to burst free from our guilty bodies
Too ethereal, too beautiful, to be abandoned
When we (artists) know we live for such wonders.

I wish I had any other option but forgetting,
or descending into madness.
(I’m currently choosing madness..?)

And it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I wasn’t supposed to fall so hard.
I’m so sorry,
My summer love.

The electricity
in that moment,
when your hand first
brushed past mine,
could have lit up New York City
for the night.

I could have lived in that moment.
Plugged in.
Turned on.

But, in the same way we got used to
light switches and indoor plumbing,
I got used to your touch.

What I wouldn't give
to go back to candlesticks and outhouses
for just one night
so that when you reach for my hand tomorrow,
I won't be jaded by the light that now seems
so perfectly ordinary.